


Red (Please Fall Into My Bed)

by Half_SubmergedinPurgatory



Series: TG Prompt Collection [46]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Fashion Consultant Juuzou, GNC Haise WORKING that dress, Hot Haise, Multi, Prompt Fic, Thirsty CCG Members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 02:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory/pseuds/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory
Summary: ANONYMOUS:Haise wearing a short tight dress with high heeled short boots for an undercover mission (and CCG personnel thirst over him lowkey) (wonders if you can guess which mutual this is)





	Red (Please Fall Into My Bed)

A room full of the CCG’s best and brightest were gathered to listen to the details of the most important undercover mission the CCG had undertaken yet.   
  
An all-ghoul lounge and gentleman’s club,  _Verum Fame_ , had recently sprung into existence. The club was already knee-deep in human trafficking and had finally been classified as a severe threat to public safety.   
  
Somebody had to infiltrate it.  
  
However, looking out into the room of bulky middle-aged men, Yoshitoki Washuu was struck with a terrible realization: none of them could pass for anything but patrons. They needed somebody backstage, not just another man on the floor.   
  
Why on Earth was the CCG so short on women…  
  
Well…there was Aki-  
  
Oh my, that was a  _ **very**_  frightening glare on her face. Never mind, then.   
  
His gaze flickered to the assembled Quinx squad for a millisecond before awkwardly skirting away. They were too young for such a mission and he wasn’t sure Tooru could tolerate such a situation twice.   
  
Next, he found himself contemplating Juuzou. Soon he cut that train of thought off. Juuzou’s smile was unravelling into something distinctly blood-thirsty at the edges and this infiltration had to last longer than it would take Juuzou to carve every patron limb-from-limb.   
  
Blithely, Take Hirako offered up Arima Kishou as a volunteer, seeing as the man himself was asleep. Yoshitoki and the assembled investigators took in Arima’s admittedly lovely features and heavily muscled body. He hummed to himself while taking a sip of water.   
  
While Arima could potentially pass as a dancer, Yoshitoki found himself struggling to imagine Arima seducing anybody.  
  
He snorted violently into his drink. His subsequent coughing fit woke Arima up, who seemed confused ( _or whatever passed for confused on his immobile face_ ). This just drove Yoshitoki to cough harder, desperately struggling to stop imaging Arima saying,   
  
_“Let’s get a private room…”_  
  
In a complete monotone, with no expression on his face, and probably a threatening set to his shoulders ( _and weapon in hand_ ).   
  
Angel-in-disguise Sasaki Haise got up from the table and went to Yoshitoki’s side, patting him gently on the back with his…delicately manicured hands.  
  
How had he never…  
  
_**Haise was perfect!**_

* * *

Unlike Haise’s last, ridiculously poorly planned, mission, his outfit would have to pass a costume check this time. The infiltration had to be seamless. The CCG couldn’t afford to get caught and Haise would be alone.   
  
Therefore, an outfit was picked out by the skeevier members of the upper echelon ( _*cough* Marude *cough*_ ) who frequented gentleman’s clubs.   
  
Haise had been sent off to the bathrooms to get ready with the full make-up kit he had brought from home ( _why he still owned it was beyond Yoshitoki)_. It had been almost half an hour and the assembled squad of “judges” were getting anxious.   
  
What if Haise couldn’t wear the outfit with confidence? What were they supposed to do? They had no back-up plan ( _Akira, Gori, and Aura were scary_ ).  
  
A door creaked and the entire room abruptly stood at the ready.  
  
Distantly, past the sound of his own heartbeat roaring in his ears, Yoshitoki heard Arima make a noise suspiciously reminiscent of a dying man. Shortly afterwords, he was pretty sure Urie Kuki had groaned before cutting it off with a series of incredibly fake coughs.  
  
Juuzou, unreserved as ever, declared,   
  
“Sasako, we  _ **have**_  to play dress up again! You could kill a man with those heels!”   
  
Yoshitoki was pretty sure that Juuzou, of all people, would know. However, Juuzou had failed to mention that “Sasako” could kill a man by just entering a room.   
  
She was unbelievably…  
  
Red leather ankle boots with wicked spike heels ( _designed to look like a spine…holy shit, were those made from ivory!?_ ) embraced a set of fishnet-wrapped legs. Those legs ( _toned, long, and creamy-smooth_ ) disappeared into a scandalously short cut-out dress.  
  
_**That dress**_ …  
  
The thighs were slit all the way to the hip and only filled in by black mesh. The rest of the dress draped carefully over Haise’s chest, giving an illusion of fullness and concealing anything unnatural about…whatever he was wearing to look like he had  _ **very nice**_  breasts.   
  
It was also near-backless, filled by more mesh, revealing a very silky-looking cage-harness crisscrossing Haise’s shoulder blades.  
  
He could see that much because Haise had done a little twirl for them ( _This time, Urie failed to disguise his groan completely. Yoshitoki had always suspected him of being an ass man_ ).  
  
Haise had butt dimples. Kami, somebody  _ **save**_  him.  
  
Someone other than Arima made the dying man noise. Yoshitoki was pretty sure everyone was dying of thirst. That ass certainly had him tossing his own water down his throat.  
  
“I couldn’t decide between the wigs.”  
  
Haise complained in a voice that belonged in some sultry jazz ballad ( _deep for a woman, but sending shivers down his spine nonetheless_ ) while batting his perfectly curled eyelashes.   
  
Those lashes brushed against delicately freckled cheeks ( _had Haise drawn those on?_ ) and the sound of fabric creaking resounded as everyone…adjusted themselves.  
  
Once the words said sunk in, Yoshitoki peered at the long auburn and short black wigs in Haise’s hands.  
  
“I need to pick a colour so I can put on the rest of my make-up. I hate red with red, so I was going to go with some dark browns or violets if I wear the red wig. I’m scared of the long hair falling off though…”  
  
While the entirety of the first and special classes continued to wheeze and ogle Haise instead of helping with his  _ **very important**_  decision, Juuzou merrily skipped forwards.   
  
“Play up your unique features, Sasako! Red hair draws attention away from your face, which would be a waste. Also, long hair will cover those collarbones.”  
  
Juuzou chirped, tossing the red wig onto the table ( _where it slid into Arima’s lap…the man looked at it with unusual intensity_ ) and drumming his fingers against Haise’s neck.  
  
“Can I bleach the black wig? I think that white will really make you stand out.”  
  
Juuzou was glaring at the short wig, spiking some of the strands and critically holding it next to Haise’s face. Haise looked thoughtful, then nodded slowly.  
  
“White hair, maroon lips, and red eyeliner?”  
  
He questioned, to which Juuzou grinned threateningly,  
  
“We’re also gonna highlight. You’re gonna look like a fallen angel.”  
  
Somebody in the room ( _Kuramoto?_ ) whispered,  
  
“You already do. Please fall into my bed.”  
  
A camera clicked, somebody fainted, and Haise bit his lip.  
  
Yoshitoki realized that they had created a monster.


End file.
